Interest now became centred upon the preparations being made by Mrs. Sin. From the attaché case she took out a lacquered box, silken-lined like a jewel-casket. It contained four singular-looking pipes, the parts of which she began to fit together. The first and largest of these had a thick bamboo stem, an amber mouthpiece, and a tiny, disproportionate bowl of brass. The second was much smaller and was of some dark, highly-polished wood, mounted with silver conceived in an ornate Chinese design representing a long-tailed lizard. The mouthpiece was of jade. The third and fourth pipes were yet smaller, a perfectly matched pair in figured ivory of exquisite workmanship, delicately gold-mounted. “These for the ladies,” said Mrs. Sin, holding up the pair. “You”—glancing at Kilfane—“have got your own pipe, I know.” She laid them upon the tray, and now took out of the case a little copper lamp, a smaller lacquered box and a silver spatula, her jewelled fingers handling the queer implements with a familiarity bred of habit. “What a strange woman!” whispered Rita to Pyne. “Is she an oriental?” “Cuban-Jewess,” he replied in a low voice. Mrs. Sin carefully lighted the lamp, which burned with a short, bluish flame, and, opening the lacquered box, she dipped the spatula into the thick gummy substance which it contained and twisted the little instrument round and round between her fingers, presently withdrawing it with a globule of _chandu_, about the size of a bean, adhering to the end. She glanced aside at Kilfane. “Chinese way, eh?” she said. She began to twirl the prepared opium above the flame of the lamp. From it a slight, sickly smelling vapor arose. No one spoke, but all watched her closely; and Rita was conscious of a growing, pleasurable excitement. When by evaporation the _chandu_ had become reduced to the size of a small pea, and a vague spirituous blue flame began to dance round the end of the spatula, Mrs. Sin pressed it adroitly into the tiny bowl of one of the ivory pipes, having first held the bowl inverted for a moment over the lamp. She turned to Rita. “The guest of the evening,” she said. “Do not be afraid. Inhale—oh, so gentle—and blow the smoke from the nostrils. You know how to smoke?” “The same as a cigarette?” asked Rita excitedly, as Mrs. Sin bent over her. “The same, but very, very gentle.” Rita took the pipe and raised the mouthpiece to the lips. CHAPTER XIV. IN THE SHADE OF THE LONELY PALM Persian opium of good quality contains from ten to fifteen percent morphine, and _chandu_ made from opium of Yezd would contain perhaps twenty-five per cent of this potent drug; but because in the act of smoking distillation occurs, nothing like this quantity of morphine reaches the smoker. To the distilling process, also, may be due the different symptoms resulting from smoking _chandu_ and injecting morphia—or drinking tincture of opium, as De Quincey did.